


No One Else

by andrewiel



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewiel/pseuds/andrewiel
Summary: Andrew teaches Neil how to use his words.(Anonymous requested: maybe how much Andrew likes when Neil massages him [his thighs] in a soft, adoring way?)





	No One Else

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to 1. procrastinate schoolwork and 2. procrastinate editing the monster that is the ABO sequel. I also edited it all on the bus to school today! Shoutout to the person sitting next to me who might've been reading lmao.
> 
> I just thought it would be fun 2 write what a freaky lil thing Neil can be, and how he learns to get there with Andrew, then tied it in with a prompt from tumblr! I was fundraising for my little baby kitty, Mr. Shakedown! At the moment his needs are cared for, so all I'm doing now is writing as a massive thank you to those who helped out. 
> 
> Thank you so much, for all your support and kind words everyone! One day soon I hope to sit down and reply to all the comments on everything. Thank you <3

Neil whines against Andrew’s lips, the sound a mixture of sudden want and sudden need.

Andrew pulls back from Neil’s lips at the noise, his eyes narrowing in question.

“I just -” Neil shuts his eyes and bites on his bottom lip, trying to find the words. “It felt - nevermind.”

He tugs gently at Andrew’s hair to guide him back to his mouth and continue their kiss, but Andrew doesn’t kiss back.

“No,” Andrew says, placing a hand on Neil’s chest to keep him down as he pulls away. “Use your words. What do you want?”

Sudden shame floods Neil’s face, filling his cheeks with red. He averts Andrew’s gaze, and the words are right there for him to say, but he can’t. He just - he can’t. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

His heart sinks as the bed dips with Andrew’s weight, the air so much colder without Andrew’s body over his.

“This doesn’t continue until you learn to use your words,” Andrew says flatly, grabbing his cigarettes off the top of the dresser before he leaves the bedroom in a rush, shutting the door behind him.

With a loud sigh, Neil rolls onto his stomach and throws a punch against his pillow.

He’s usually quick with words, but he doesn’t know how to be fast about this.

-

Neil tries, many times.

Even for things that don’t require touching, that have nothing to do with their bodies. He tells Andrew he likes his coffee black mostly, because it’s what he grew up with. He tells Andrew he likes it when it rains because when it’s sunny you can feel too seen. He tells Andrew he likes it when Andrew wears a certain cologne, because it smells like home.

In the locker room after practice, with the rest of the team in the showers, Neil tells Andrew, “I like when you touch my ass.”

He says it while facing his own locker, with Andrew sitting behind him on the bench. One day he’ll say these things to his face, but for now, this is what he can manage.

“Oh?” Andrew asks, while he finishes unstrapping all of his gear. He stands to throw his stuff into his own locker, then looks at Neil, his red face and shy eyes, before heading off to the showers himself.

Neil thuds his head against the metal door, then hits the showers to wash away his shame.

Andrew acts as if Neil hadn’t said anything, hadn’t ripped out his heart and put it on display. Neil can’t look at him over dinner, can’t hold eye contact once back at the dorm. It’s as if it was never said, as if it never mattered.

“Neil,” Andrew says, pulling Neil’s attention from his homework, that he wasn’t really paying attention to anyway. Andrew nods upwards, indicating to the roof, and though Neil is mad at him, he gets to his feet and grabs the nearest hoodie.

On the roof they smoke and sit in silence, as always, until it’s late enough for Neil’s eyes to well up when he yawns, so tired.

Andrew stands to his feet and grabs the sleeve of Neil’s hoodie to pull him to his own, leading the way back downstairs. They get to the rooftop door when Andrew suddenly stops, turns around, and pulls Neil forward, until they’re toe to toe and nose to nose.

“Yes?” Andrew asks, and Neil nods, forgetting all about anger, and responds with, “Yes.”

Andrew kisses him, the hand in Neil’s hoodie fisted tight, always keeping him close.

It kills Neil’s exhaustion, waking up the whole world. He feels bright and light and ready, for everything and anything. His arms go up around Andrew’s neck and the world all makes sense.

Until Andrew’s free hand suddenly finds space on Neil’s body, settled firmly against his ass.

Neil freezes, unsure if it’s a mistake or not.

Andrew, having expected Neil to freeze, stares at him, waiting.

“Yeah,” Neil says, leaning into the kiss, and says against Andrew’s lips, “Yes.”

Andrew squeezes at Neil’s ass, cupping him so firmly yet gently, making Neil feel so seen and cared for. He leans fully against Andrew, allowing him to hold him and pull him and kiss him, allowing him to erase all of Neil’s earlier shame.

-

It’s almost perfect.

Almost.

If Andrew would just - if he would -

If Neil could just feel controlled and contained, but in a safe way -

Neil groans, in pleasure but also frustration, the full satisfaction on the tip of his tongue but so far away.

Andrew is carefully positioned above Neil, over Neil, his knees on either side of him and his arms propping himself up, so they’re touching nowhere but their lips. Any bit of friction has Neil seeing stars, seeing the moon, too. Nothing makes Neil more feverish than the touch of Andrew’s skin against his, allowed and wanted and given.

He can feel Andrew’s hesitation, how he wants to give in but won’t.

So Neil says it for the both of them.

“Pin me down,” he says in the moments that their lips are parted. Andrew immediately pulls back, until there’s space even between their faces. “You won’t hurt me. I won’t hurt you.”

Andrew breathes, heavy and fast, his eyes dark and hard on Neil’s face.

Before he lets out a small growl, or maybe a groan, and kisses Neil hard into the pillow. He takes hold of Neil’s wrists and shoves them above his head, his strength keeping Neil down, while he settles over Neil’s lap, laying his full weight on Neil.

Neil feels instantly contained, safe, free. Nothing can get to him here. Nobody but Andrew.

And that’s exactly what Neil wants.

-

It never really crossed his mind, sex.

Arousal, sure. Having to take care of himself, yes. It involved himself, it was contained, it was over and then done and he could go, keep going, keep running. There was no one else.

Now there really is no one else, no one else who is Andrew.

It’s Andrew who Neil thinks about now, who pulls these feelings from him, who makes them build up so hot inside of him.

Running never once crosses Neil’s mind, especially not now, with his legs thrown over Andrew’s shoulders, his heels scraping down Andrew’s back, his hands fisted so tight in the sheets that his muscles ache.

Neil wonders if Andrew can breathe, but then again he can’t breathe either. It’s all too fast and too much, there is no time to breathe, as Andrew works his mouth up and down the length of Neil’s cock, taking Neil as far as he can before nearly pulling off. Neil knows he would’ve had to cough by now, but only concentration crosses Andrew’s face.

So Neil shuts his eyes tight and enjoys it, because it feels even better knowing how much Andrew _wants_ to do this to him.

Andrew continues the same rhythm, bringing Neil to the edge before lowering him down again, over and over until Neil nearly begs for an end - but he doesn’t want it to end.

He pulls off, leaving Neil heaving and wrecked on the bed. Neil nearly tilts his head up to ask what’s wrong when Andrew’s mouth is on him again, this time lower. Andrew licks down the length of Neil and over his balls, Neil feeling so exposed he curls his toes and blushes, grateful Andrew can’t see his face.

So caught up in his own worry, Neil only realizes how far down Andrew is until he licks over him, a wet and warm path from his perineum to the base of his cock. And Neil breaks.

His hips jerk upwards while his hand flies up to cover his mouth, a muffled sob coming out.

“Fuck!” he curses, his eyes scrunching up. “Andrew, I - fuck -”

Andrew immediately stills, taking all his warmth with him.

“No, you can - fuck.” Neil tries to sit up and pull Andrew back to him, so shaken and so turned on and so desperate that his hands are trembling, but his lip is trembling harder. “Andrew -”

“Words, Neil,” Andrew says flatly, his eyes dark on Neil’s face, his hands an inch away.

Neil bites his trembling lip while taking in a deep breath through his nose. It’s all so vulnerable. It’s all too much.

But this is Andrew, and Andrew makes impossible things feel possible. Andrew is no one else.

“I want you to keep going . . . like, down there. So I can, um . . . see how it feels.”

His face hurts from the burn, but Andrew’s expression never changes.

“If you don’t like it, you tell me.”

Neil nods, and reaches forward to pull Andrew in for a kiss. It’s heated, though brief, before Andrew pushes Neil back by his chest and slides down his body again, until he’s back between Neil’s legs.

Neil pulls his knees towards his chest so Andrew doesn’t have to hold him open, his eyes shut all the while, because he wants Andrew to see but he would rather imagine.

Andrew covers his bases, retraces his steps, pulling Neil down into pleasure and distraction, and soon all he feels is good.

He feels even better when Andrew goes lower, and lower, until he’s where Neil wants him but has never had him before. Neil arches his back off the bed with a cry, only for Andrew’s hands to grasp his hips and pull him down, pull him closer.

Neil twists his body, he clenches tight at the sheets, he says Andrew’s name from between gritted teeth, all want and all need. Everything about it is who he is not; he is not vulnerable, he is not open, he is not desperate.

When Andrew touches him that way, and when Andrew carefully yet expertly licks around and into Neil in ways that feel like punches, Neil is all of that and more.  
  
His legs begin to clamp up, closing around Andrew’s head, as his back rises and his pelvis feels tight. When he comes, he wants to. Not so it will end, but so it can begin again.

Neil gasps for air once he’s flat on the bed again. He looks up at Andrew through half-lidded eyes, over the rise and fall of his chest, and decides that yes, he did like it.

-

Andrew has Neil pinned down in more ways than one.

He lays his weight across Neil, their chests touching and their faces close. Andrew has his forearms on either side of Neil’s head, keeping himself raised where he needs to be. Neil doesn’t feel trapped, despite the lack of an escape route. If he needed one, there would be one.

He only feels cared for, seen, safe and heard. It’s easy to be vulnerable with Andrew. It’s not shouting your secrets at a stranger. Not Andrew. He hears every word.

Andrew’s thrusts are more frantic, with less rhythm and more chaos. Maybe it’s because they lost their game earlier, or maybe it’s because they haven’t had a chance all week to even ask to be kissed.

Deprived of touches and yeses, Andrew fucks Neil like this is all that matters, and he is all that he cares for.

Neil can’t bring himself to look at Andrew’s face as he fucks him. Not because he’s afraid to see how Andrew looks - he wants to see how Andrew looks. But because Neil can’t control his expressions, can’t stop from biting his lip or opening his mouth, his eyes rolling back or scrunching closed.

“F-” Neil starts to say, but clenches his jaw shut and swallows his whimper. His hands twist into the blanket beneath them and his toes curl up tight.

When suddenly there’s a hand on his chin, soft and so out of place amongst this reckless pace.

Neil opens his eyes in confusion, to find Andrew looking calmly at him.

“Don’t,” Andrew says, his tone of voice at odds with his touch. “You don’t have to do that.”

Neil frowns, beginning to feel suddenly aware the less they move of where his body ends and where Andrew’s begins, where they connect.

“What?” he asks, dumbfounded and stupid, but Andrew usually answers with utter honesty, honesty that Neil can handle.

But Andrew ducks his head and averts his gaze, biting at his own lip in a way Neil has done many times when confronted by Andrew.

Neil looks at Andrew, seeing a reflection of his own doubts and his fears in Andrew’s face. He pinpoints it, and he smiles, gently. “You can say it, Andrew.”

Andrew snarls out his breath, eyes sharp on Neil now, his mouth twisting to form a curse before he forfeits and sighs instead.

“When you’re loud . . . don’t hold back. I like when you’re loud.”

Neil feels the breath being punched out of him, as a faint smile twitches his lips.

“Okay,” he says, rather softly, and kisses Andrew’s chin before settling back against the bed.

Andrew kisses him back, on the lips, hard enough to steal the remainder of Neil’s breath, before he reaches down to align himself better and pushes back into Neil, ripping and breaking through barriers Neil hadn’t known where there before.

He goes to clamp his jaw shut before reminding himself that Andrew likes it. When Neil is loud, Andrew wants to hear it. When Neil feels safe, and trusting, and wanted, when he feels cared for and feels good, when he’s loud - Andrew likes it.

And that makes Neil even louder.

It hurts his throat, it burns in his eyes, it echoes in his ears, but it’s all for Andrew to hear, and so Neil likes it, too.

He says Andrew’s name, pants it and chants it and whispers it against Andrew’s ear when he’s all out of breath and energy, his orgasm counting down like seconds on a clock, slow, fast and then faster and Neil says Andrew’s name one last time, half-formed and broken but loud.

Neil clutches at Andrew afterwards, both arms around him as he hides his face against his neck, not quite able to show himself to Andrew after that. He lets Andrew finish, taking each thrust with a small whine or grunt, until he feels Andrew begin to shake above him.

With one hand Neil soothes down Andrew’s back, where Andrew likes to be touched and where he allows Neil to touch. Neil memorized the spots fairly quickly. He soothes him through it, as best he can. Because Andrew will never admit it, but he can be as scared as Neil. Of opening up, letting go, and taking in.

Neil reaches Andrew’s thighs; strong and built, the muscles hard underneath Neil’s fingertips. From years of standing and defending, protecting and fighting. Andrew is hard from head to toe, but here he is soft. Soft in the way that he lets Neil stroke his skin, trace his muscles, and ease away the ache.

Words wouldn’t be good here. Neil could tell Andrew that it’s alright to come, that Neil wants him to, that he can be that open and that defenseless and have it be okay, but those aren’t the words Andrew had wanted to hear from Neil.

So Neil does this, and touches his skin, until the tenseness fades from Andrew’s legs and his thrusts slow. Until Neil digs his fingers in, finally, not to hurt or claim, but to calm and soothe, to help, not maim.

For all his strength and strictness, when Andrew finally comes it’s silent and quick, only for Andrew to experience and for Neil to feel it.

Looking at one another after is more difficult than it should be.

Neil blushes and gives Andrew a shy smile, while Andrew builds the wall in front of his face, brick by stubborn brick.

But Neil finds, as they sit there in the aftermath, out of breath and silent, that nothing is broken or ruined. Andrew holds every secret Neil has inside of him, but just like his own secrets, Andrew keeps them guarded.

Protected.

Never to use against him.

And that’s what Neil will do with his, held tight in his hands.

If they were going to hurt each other, they would not be here.

Andrew gets up and throws Neil’s shirt at him, only for Neil to catch it, and then catch Andrew’s hand. He pulls Andrew in until they’re eye to eye, where Neil smiles, and says out loud, “I liked that.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow before they soften. He looks at Neil for a moment, before nodding and nudging their noses together. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.

Because Neil already knows his secrets, and that he liked it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think! I'm [jostenminyard](http://jostenminyard.tumblr.com) on tumblr! Come say hallo!


End file.
